


Two Little Fires

by goldenbloodorange



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Implied Final Boss Fight, Loosely Interpreted History, Los Angeles Dodgers, MLB 2018 Postseason, Milwaukee Brewers, good natured bodily harm, he can burn things with like his mind and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 15:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17185868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenbloodorange/pseuds/goldenbloodorange
Summary: The lights flicker on the Milwaukee Brewers charter bus, and since Christian Yelich can’t see what he’s reading anymore, he emits two little fires from his right index and middle fingers, and once again, he’s got reading light.





	Two Little Fires

**Author's Note:**

> a few things before we begin:
> 
> -writing this story was very much so a coping mechanism
> 
> -the timeline for the NLCS isn't meant to be historically accurate
> 
> -god I miss baseball

The lights flicker on the Milwaukee Brewers charter bus, and since Christian Yelich can’t see what he’s reading anymore, he emits two little fires from his right index and middle fingers, and once again, he’s got reading light. 

“Dude, does that ever hurt?” Eric Thames asks behind him. 

“Only every time,” he replies unenthusiastically. 

The headlines from the newspaper gawk back in the light of the flame. _Make Baseball Great Again_ , it says. “The game’s been tampered with to the extent where we can’t even recognize what’s on the field anymore,” the quote from a fan (remaining anonymous) says. 

“First they refuse to ban the designated hitter, then they ban the defensive shift, but this [EXPLETIVE REDACTED] is okay? I miss when we didn’t let freaks play baseball.” 

_Yeah, I didn’t ask for this_ , Yelich thinks, still embittered from having burned his own house down as a child. 

_It was an accident, his mother said in defense. He’s a child. He didn’t know what he was doing._ And their next-door neighbor who immediately joined an anti-mage militia the next day. _He’s a freak and doesn’t belong here, and he’s a danger to everyone in your family and this community._ And then their family moved from Westlake Village to Thousand Oaks, to a community more welcoming to people like Christian. 

“Man, quit that shit,” Lorenzo Cain says from across the aisle. “You’ll burn this whole goddamn bus down.” Yeli gets glance of the center fielder; LoCain is shaking his head. 

Making a fist with his right hand, the little fires disappear, nothing but smoke and a few fluttering embers in the now darkened cabin. 

When Yelich and Cain were both acquired by the Brewers last offseason, they were referred to respectively before their names were even announced, as a pyrokinetic and a time manipulator; both highly valued traits in outfielders.

Illusionists and shapeshifters were the only other classes regarded as more valuable; the Los Angeles Dodgers and now the Colorado Rockies were stocked with them, down to their respective farm systems. 

“Who’s messing with the power again?” Craig Counsell says, standing up in the front of the bus, his eyes glowing a placid yellow. 

“Hey, I didn’t do shit,” Jacob Barnes says, holding his hands up. 

“Checks out,” his seatmate, Corbin Burnes says, sticking a voltage meter into Barnes’ skin.

“Do you always carry that around?” Barnes asks with a hint of offense.

“Only when I have to sit next to you,” Burnes muses.

There have been few attacks on buses; mainly “grassroots” organizations that were not in favor of MLB stocking its ranks solely with players with “abilities.” It started in the 90’s, and slowly but surely the non-mages were replaced with mages, and it got to the point where the commissioner OK’d the use of supernatural abilities “within reason” in play, as long as no bodily harm was committed.

“This is getting scary. Maybe you can advance time to an hour from now?” Jesús Aguilar asks Cain, his head poking over Lo’s seat.

“Time doesn’t work that way,” Cain says exhaustedly. “You stop it, you slow it down, but you don’t rewind it or push it forward.” His class was the last one approved entry in MLB as time and the ability to manipulate it was absolutely one of the most contested variables in baseball. 

As they step off the bus in Chicago and walk on Pearson towards their hotel on Michigan Avenue, they’re greeted by the jeering and shouts of people from various anti-mage factions, which was the norm now. Shouts of “go home, freaks” and more unsavory taunts carry into the bus; the name calling is whatever by now, that's been long in operation, even before magic. 

Someone throws what seems to be a whole cabbage - but it’s deflected. 

“Worry not, I got this,” Jeremy Jeffress says, and the reliever casts a shield spell in the nick of time. 

The cabbage bounces off before it can hit anyone, like a lazy bloop single to center. 

***

A few weeks later after forcing - and winning - game 163 of the regular season, the Brewers sweep the Rockies and are in Los Angeles for the NLCS - the Dodgers have been a team riddled with injuries - plenty of cuts, burns, a handful of dislocations, but they bounce back fearlessly, it seems. 

The Brewers have been lucky to stay injury free for the most part - it helps to have relievers with protective and shield spells at their disposal like Jeffress, Woodruff, Taylor Williams. 

But Counsell needs to be strategic about it - MLB rules explicitly state that players not in the game can’t use abilities. So he employs the double switch frequently. And brings the bullpen in when he knows the opposing team has high-level offensive players. And the fallout if anything, is minimal. 

There’s one time where Tyler Saladino is burned so badly by Manny Machado running past him - Machado uses his most powerful fire spell to blow past the infield, a move that was otherwise looked down upon. 

Jeffress needs to conjure every last bit of revival energy within himself; he passes out for two days after bringing Sally back to factory settings, Counsell having to mark him as “unavailable.” 

But you’d never think Sally came anywhere close to being burned alive looking at him now. 

Every game is truly a blessing. 

***

In the same game later, Machado both incinerates a baseball and Jesús Aguilar at first base. 

He thinks about going after the pitching staff, that old catcher Kratz, maybe even their beloved MVP - but his focus needs to be on the present. He’s heard the criticism before. _You’re scattered, you lack hustle, you lack discipline._ It never was enough; and he was arguably the greatest shortstop in the league. 

As Machado blazes past first, he ignores the painful screams and just keeps running.

 _All in the spirit of hustle,_ he thinks.

***

The ball is set to induce at least third degree burns, Orlando Arcia picks up the ball anyway. He’s trying to form an ice counter and he’s somewhat able to protect his hand, but unfortunately not Aguilar. 

Jesús is only burned from the ankle down, and after this season, Orlando more than anyone now knows what charred flesh smells like. But Jesús stands there as if nothing happened, unbothered, as if there was a game to play, as if absolutely nothing is wrong. But his face shows the pain and a reliever starts throwing in the bullpen immediately as there are no mages with healing capabilities currently in play. 

As play resumes, Orlando feels himself grow so cold there’s a crystallized vapor forming around the crown of his head. 

***

“It was a dirty play by a dirty player,” Yelich says in a clubhouse interview later. The video is posted to social media immediately - he’s called whiny and a crybaby by some troglodytes on twitter, but for fuck’s sake, his teammate nearly died from an illegal use of magic. He’s allowed to get angry. He gives himself the concession. 

He isn’t afraid of Machado or anyone else for that matter. Though Yeli’s never burned anything larger than a candle in adulthood (and one time an outfield wall back in Miami when he had less control over his powers), he feels like he could burn down the whole locker room, hell, this whole fucking stadium, he’s so angry, and Dodger Stadium used to be a place he once called home. 

His skin is so hot to the touch and he can see smoke forming along the lines of his veins. Reporters need to keep a three foot radius away from him; Yelich is all of a sudden a human heat lamp and he’s burning so intense that a nearby reporter nearly faints from the dehydration.

He hears his mother’s voice in his head. _You’re okay_ , she tells him. _You’re here_. And he begins counting backwards. He feels her embrace and remembers her reassurance. 

_You’re here, and so am I._

***

An NLCS game or two down and Clayton Kershaw, an illusionist pitcher, is on the mound against the Brewers - again. He’s given so much rest since overuse of mental abilities like Kersh’s can be psychologically damaging, and as a result he has to undergo psych evaluations every few starts. 

The meditating, the fancy crystals, and the solo 3AM trips to Runyon Canyon help; he’s mindful, at least, and as he eats innings, he feels himself getting stronger, and some of his weaker spells don’t take that long to charge like they used to.

During the regular season, he’s made even shapeshifting players go mad, having them swing at things embarrassingly way outside the strike zone. The spell that causes him to tire out the fastest is one where he triplicates himself and he can literally throw a 60 MPH fastball for all he cares because the batter won’t know what the hell to swing at. 

Getting into the minds of some of these guys can be somewhat amusing. But Kersh finishes his work, withdraws, and shuts the world out - and it feels like he’s lost all of his AP for the day. 

Kersh remembers when stats were numbers thrown around by broadcasters to fill airtime. 

That’s the joke - everyone is silently controlled by an invisible point system, but the bigger joke is everyone is not just controlled, but exploited with the illusion that they have as much agency as they think they do over their lives. 

 

*** 

It’s a balmy Los Angeles evening outside Dodger Stadium and the Brewers are headed on a redeye flight back to Milwaukee - and they need to leave now, as all mages flying need to go through added layers of security, placing an additional time lock on all abilities as they board commercial flights. It was yet an additional pain in the ass to subject yourself to a locking spell cast upon you by an unenthusiastic mage who also worked for the Transportation Security Administration. 

The reports said that locking spells have no side effects, but they always made Yeli feel queasy, dehydrated. “A hangover without any of the fun,” Curtis Granderson describes it.

He excuses himself from Shaw and Braun and Moose and everyone else and walks alone because he needs to be, and tells everyone he’s just going to meet up later at the airport. “Text me later, okay?” Shaw barks with a hint of suspicion, feeling the residual canine instinct from his earlier day of game shifting experience.

The night gets colder and everything around him feels heavy, humid, the air wet, perhaps not the best climate for fire. He grew up watching games here, and he’d been in so many situations where he really could have just watched everything go up in flames. But he’s been in control of everything. He’s always been in control. He’s walking, and then he’s running, and then the tears start to form and he hears his mother’s voice and it’s soft and pleading and it’s making Christian so sick he needs to place his hands on his knees and dry heave. 

_You’re not a monster_ , she says. _You were never supposed to be a monster._

“I knew I’d find you here,” Machado says from behind, laughing and shaking his head, red embers forming on the surface of his skin, crackling and splitting as they hit the oxygen of the night air. “And all this time, I thought you were shy.”

“I was,” Yelich says turning around, stepping towards him, a deep heat growing from both his palms. 

***

for more hijinks, find me on tumblr at @goldenbloodorange


End file.
